


how light carries on endlessly

by ohifonlyx33



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel
Genre: Adorable FitzSimmons (Agents of SHIELD), Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Could Be Canon, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, In Character, Light Angst, Missing Scene, Off-screen Relationship(s), One Shot Collection, Originally Posted on Tumblr, canon to a point, fitzsimmons talk about things, mostly happy i think, the scenes we deserve, you get the point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6940429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohifonlyx33/pseuds/ohifonlyx33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of things I've written on tumblr to keep the light shining in the darkness, since Fitzsimmons never quite seem to get as much emotional development as we want. Especially considering the things they've been through. Hopefully these little moments tuck away nicely into canon (up until a certain point, at least) or hypothetical canon (hey, it could happen like this).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. even the stars, they burn (but i won’t give up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet post-kiss fix-it fic written after 3x07. They love each other so much but have a hard time saying it. Full of fluffy angst that never came to pass.
> 
> Written hastily between 3 and 6 in the morning because the fact that the Leonid Meteor shower occurred on the same evening as the Fitzsimmons kiss makes me feel things. So I didn’t put a *ton* of editorial work into it, but I tend to edit a lot as I go. Also very heavily inspired by a Jason Mraz song.

For as long as she can remember Jemma Simmons had always been attentive to the calendar. Even at the start of a new year, leave it to her to always know the date. More than ever, after her return from 6 months stranded on another planet, she took great comfort in clocks and calendars. So she knew perfectly well that the day her best friend kissed her was November 17th, 2015. She didn’t have to think about it too long before she remembered what that night meant: the Leonids. 

Had they really forgotten the meteor shower that she and Leopold I-was-practically-named-after-it-and-that-is-the-one-good-thing-about-my-first-name Fitz had always enjoyed observing? The thought saddened her, and for a moment she considered going to the roof to watch them, but it wouldn’t be the same. Perhaps she had lost too much of her youth to enjoy such things anymore anyway. Perhaps they both had.

Lying in bed, Jemma mulled over the day restlessly, unable to focus on anything except the one thing she didn’t want to focus on. Everything that had happened lately with Andrew and Hydra and even Will blurred and faded around her. The one thing Jemma couldn’t forget was the way Fitz’s lips had touched hers in such a fabulous way. That she remembered vividly. 

Unfortunately, the pain she was causing, the guilt she felt, and the weight of regret for the last six moths were suffocating her. That one kiss had been a gasp of air in a sea of complications. And with two and a half words–”We’re cursed”–the air had been knocked out of her lungs, making everything worse than before. 

It was all too complicated for her to dwell on without feeling an ache swell in her chest, so she tried to push the memory away, but the neurotransmitters in her brain were busier than ever, flooding Jemma with confusion. For not the first time since she had fallen in love with Fitz she had the self-awareness that these feelings were part of who she was as a person–not just her brain reacting naturally to chemicals. She never needed to make such a silly, non-scientific distinction before, but she was now.

At long last she kicked the twisted covers away and slipped into sweatpants, a hooded jacket, and trainers–Jemma Simmons was not one to wander about the base in pajamas. At the very least, she needed tea. She found the kettle in the kitchen was still quite warm. Perhaps Fitz had been up late again–working so diligently on that stupid monolith again, still doing the right thing even after admitting how he felt. 

After preparing her tea to perfection, she decided to tiptoe past the lab. She knew better than to go find Fitz, but her eyes missed him and a peek couldn’t hurt. The lights were all dimmed, the lab empty. She sighed and resigned herself to returning to her room. Even then, she faced a choice: she could either walk halfway around the base and use the back stairwell that she had used previously, or she could use the elevator just down the hallway and sneak past his room. She knew the logical choice, so that was the one she chose. 

When the elevator stopped on the appropriate floor, she didn’t step out. Of course he was likely asleep, and it was unlikely he would come out. Nevertheless she balked because she felt the impulsive urge to knock on his door and tell him– What more was there to say? Maybe she just wanted to see him and kiss him. Whatever she did, she would only cause him more pain. The automatic doors closed and she found herself tapping the button to the top floor. There was still one floor still higher, unreachable by the elevator, so she climbed the final steps to find her window where she had watched the sunrise. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of Fitz standing barefooted in a white under shirt and plaid flannel pajama pants, arms crossed, mug in one hand, leaning against the window. She started to back away, unseen, but it was too late.  
He had known who it was when he heard the footsteps approaching, and one glance behind him confirmed it. He remained silent, unsure of what to say without the distraction of a new discovery. 

Knowing he was aware of her presence made Jemma search for something to break the silence, but the only words that she could say spit out were, “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean– I should– I didn’t know you were– I’ll just leave.”

He responded with a heavy sigh and a shrug, “You don’t have to leave.”

“Oh.” she stepped closer, giving into the desire to breath next to him, however awkward it might be. She might as well have forgotten what she had just said about leaving. She glanced at his steely, unwavering expression which focused on the night sky. 

She released a breath she had been holding, “Couldn’t sleep?” 

When his only response was a shrug, she shifted her weight nervously. “Yeah, me neither. Then I remembered…” She only nodded towards the window, not bothering to look or even finish the sentence. Then tearing her eyes away from him to witness a sky full of shooting stars, she tried to keep the tension low, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” When he made no sign of acknowledgement, she could feel her lungs tightening, panic rising in her bloodstream, the tears stinging her eyes. She was tired of this feeling being so familiar. She would break if she lost him. Even though she kept reminding herself that for some reason she should let him go. And then she realized just how much she didn’t want to.

Her eyes were back on him, “So you’re not talking to me now?”

“There’s nothing more I want to say, Jemma.”

“Well, you could at least say that the sky is beautiful.”

“Or I could say that giant pieces of rock are breaking apart in the cosmos and raining down fire and ash.” He let out a cynical scoff and murmured under his breath, “If that’s not a metaphor…”

“Oh, don’t go there, Fitz. There’s two ways of–”

He cut her off, “Look I’ve been thinking Jemma.” A pause. “And I think I need some space for a while.” 

The ground seemed to fall out from beneath her knees, and her stomach dropped in response. Pools formed in her eyes. All she could utter was one soft interjection, “But–” 

He looked at her and kept continuing, “So that we can try to be just a friends again, instead of this–” He waved his hand in the air and turned back to the window, “Whatever we almost were.”

And just like that, a small sob escaped her throat and the tears spilled from behind her lashes. She wiped her eyes furiously, trying to find her voice before it was too late, “Maybe I don’t want to just be friends!”

“Still hanging onto maybe?” He shook his head. 

“I didn’t mean it like that–”

“Look, obviously I want to be more, but that doesn’t matter, does it? You’re the one who fell for another guy, remember? Or doesn’t he still matter–”

“Of course! But so do you!”

“Yeah but just admit it, Jemma: I’ll never be more than a friend to you.”

“No that’s not it at all! I may love Will, but FItz, I- I-” She stopped, brow furrowed. 

Fitz stared at her, expectantly. He could feel hope draining from his body each second that passed. When her face fell to the ground, he gave up waiting, “Stop kidding yourself. You can’t even say it.”

Her head snapped up, “Because I can’t think of a strong enough word!” 

His mouth fell open, “What?”

She ignored Fitz’s visibly jarred reaction and continued, tripping over her words, “It scares me how much you mean to me, Fitz. You’re everything I want, and I- I don’t want to lose you because you think we’re cursed which is ridiculous to begin with, but especially when you think about how we’ve made it so far against the odds–”

This was the second time Fitz had surprised her with the sensation of his lips on hers. She grabbed hold of him and refused to let go. The impulse of the kiss burned out and settled into something more meaningful. In many ways it was the last two kisses combined, with a layer of hope and a deeper sense of amazement added to perfect the formula.

Fitz broke the kiss and looked out the window. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost shy, “The sky is beautiful tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. Shooting stars, right?” She put her head on his shoulder and looked out the window. After a moment of happy silence she had to make sure they were still on the same page. “So do you still need space?”

“After the 6 months you were gone? Absolutely not. Don’t need another second of it. I actually hate space.”

He actually sounded happy after so long. Letting out a shaky breath she said what he deserved to hear her say, “I really do, Fitz–Love you, I mean.”

He took hold of her hand and kissed it, “It’s not a strong enough word for me either, Jemma.” He never let go of her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Cause even the stars they burn  
> Some even fall to the earth  
> We’ve got a lot to learn  
> God knows we’re worth it  
> No, I won’t give up


	2. Something Always Brings Me Back (It Never Takes Too Long)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picks up after the Fist Bump Of True Love™ in 3x11. Jemma really wants to kiss Fitz. It's kinda problematic.
> 
> Disclaimer: I stayed up all night writing this one too. Whoops. Very little proof-reading besides just editing and revising as I go. Metaphorically speaking, this sugary fic sorta breaks down into syrup at the end when Bobbi, Mack, and Hunter make a cameo.

Based on her own personal experience stranded in space, Jemma Simmons could literally say that Leopold Fitz was not only her best friend in the entire universe, but so much, much more than that. For nearly a decade she had known his many merits and numerous flaws, and she had valued every bit of his friendship. In fact, when she had pledged her allegiance to SHIELD all those years ago, she had agreed to do so partially out of a secret gratitude to the Academy for pairing them together. In all the time since then, she hadn’t realized until recently just what she had found: not only a science partner, but her soulmate if such an unscientific thing existed.

Now, after more than a few cruel circumstances had torn them apart physically and emotionally, he stood next to her agreeing with her own proposal to be friends, to start over. Immediately they turned to talking about science and slowly replaced the tension between them with familiar friendship. Within 5 minutes they were lost in technical terms and exciting ideas. Within 20 minutes Jemma wanted to kiss his brilliant face, and within 25 minutes she was biting her lip and telling herself to slow down.

Fitz noticed the look of intense focus on Jemma’s face and stopped mid-sentence, “What?”

Jemma snapped out of her trance, breaking her deskward gaze to respond with bewiderment, “What?”

“You had a look on your face-”

“Oh? Did I?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did. Was it- Did I not calibrate the-”

“No, no. It’s nothing. I mean, nothing to do with that. Coulson’s going to love his new hand. Really, Fitz, It’s quite-”

“Well then what?” he blurted out. “Is it…” he faltered, worried what her answer might be if he mentioned Will. “Is it something with the Inhuman DNA you’ve been studying?”

Jemma paused to consider her options. She could shove her thoughts aside and show him what she had learned from Lincoln about Inhumans, she could deflect altogether and call it a night, or she could tell him the truth–no, she couldn’t do that, could she? Maybe just a half-truth then. “I was thinking about you.” She could see the second wave of doubts and insecurities washing over him. “I mean, us.” No, that was definitely worse. She groaned inwardly and wondered how someone with two P.H.D.s could be as stupid as she was. Not even half-an-hour had passed, and she was already ruining this second start. She took a deep breath and tried awkwardly to rectify her mistake, “I mean, this. This is nice. That’s all. I was just glad… that… we’re still here.” She remembered to add a smile at the end.

He returned an awkward smile, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Fitz wasn’t sure if a romance would ever be possible between them, but he was beyond grateful to have his best friend in the galaxy back, and he wasn’t about to lose that for anything. “Me too, Jemma.”

First she heard the sincerity in his voice, then she saw the gentleness in his bright blue eyes, and then she made the mistake of glancing at his lips. Her smile fell immediately as she scolded her self. Her eyes darted back to his piercing gaze–most unhelpful. Instead, she found a particularly interesting spot on the wall behind Fitz to study.

“Jemma?” Something was definitely wrong. Maybe she couldn’t be his friend after all. Maybe she would never be able to heal from her time on the planet or the loss of Will. Maybe-

At the sound of her name she returned to the present. “Fitz? I’m…” Her brow burrowed as she steeled herself from the sudden urge to cry. Somehow waiting for Fitz seemed like a just punishment for the pain she’d caused him, but now she was regretting every second. She owed him an apology. “I’m sorry I almost messed everything up between us.”

His instinct to comfort her kicked in, “Hey, no, you didn’t… I was the one who-”

“Ugh, Fitz! You don’t get it do you? You’re not to blame. I am. You… You’re the hero.”

His words stolen from him, he closed his mouth and looked down at the ground shaking his head. “Maybe you’re right. I’m not a hero, but maybe I shouldn’t blame myself for what… what happened with… with… with everything. But… You shouldn’t… uh, feel guilty for anything that happened either. Maybe it was no one’s fault. And maybe we’re both just bad at communicating. Funny since we used to read each other’s minds.”

She scoffed in true Simmons form, “Well, you’re certainly not reading mine right now.”

“I’m trying. You’re just not telling me.” He fired back defensively, in turn.

“I’m trying hard not to!” 

He blinked, taken aback, “Why not?”

“Because in the past half hour we’ve just re-established our friendship. And I just thought maybe… Some things should wait.” She risked one more stray, lingering glance at his lips. “And believe me, it’s killing me to wait.”

The surprise in his eyes told Jemma he was starting to get it, but he still wasn’t sure. “What are you waiting-”

His question was answered with Jemma’s hands around his neck and her lips on his. He liked her response, and returned in kind. It was sudden but not rushed, almost very nearly eternal and yet over all too soon.

“How is that for communication?”

“It’s a start. Some… some words might be nice too.” he stammered.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, Leo.” she teased him exasperatedly. “And I know it was my idea to start over, and the last thing I want is to mess things up again, but you’ll have to excuse me if I’m having trouble wanting to kiss you. You’re more than my best friend, and I just–” She had just enough time to tell he was about to kiss her, so she breathed the last three words of her speech with anticipation, “I love you.”

Fitz stopped, his hands behind her head, his lips just inches from the ones that had just whispered a precious confession to him. He pulled away from her face and looked in her honest brown eyes. It was the most truthful moment they had ever shared, at least without the imminent threat of death. When he spoke, his voice was thick with conviction, “I love you too.”

For the first time, they started a kiss together, and it was by far the best one yet. It lingered far longer than either one knew. One kiss naturally turned into numerous kisses of different speeds and lengths and postures, all experiments done in the name of science and love. Once again, they were in sync.

\--

Little did Fitz and Simmons know that as they kissed Hunter, Bobbi, and Mack were witness.

“Bobs, is that-”

Bobbi stopped and looked, “Looks like she decided the ride was worth it.”

Hunter scrunched his face, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s about time.”

Mack who had been stunned into silence chimed in, “You can say that again.”

At that particular instant Fitzsimmons moved in harmony toward the nearby desk, allowing Fitz a place to lean and giving Jemma a better angle.

Hunter raised an eyebrow and grinned, “Still at it. Look at ‘em. Attaboy, Fitz. Didn’t know my mate had it in him.”

Based on his wide-eyed facial expression Mack was in at least partial agreement.

Bobbi rolled her eyes, “Hunter I swear if you say one word of this to anyone–”

“’Nough said, love. My lips, unlike theirs, are sealed.” Then turning to look at Bobbi, “But we’re still telling Daisy, right?”

She held her stony expression of outward disapproval as long as she could before she broke, “Yeah, of course.”

Mack gave a scoff of amused disagreement, but said nothing save the words, "I don’t think…” which he knew fell on deaf ears. He shrugged at his lack of influence and proceeded to side-eye everyone.

"Come on.” Bobbi grabbed Hunter’s hand.

“Yeah, we should leave before they notice us.”

“But it’s just getting to the good part! I want to see how it ends.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t.”

With that, Bobbi led Hunter away just in the knick of time.

\--

Fitz and Simmons didn’t exactly want to stop, neither of them exactly knew where or when or how to stop; but they both knew it was inevitable. When they parted at last, leaving last little kisses as parting gifts, they said goodnight only to walk out together and realize their rooms were in the same corridor. They walked quietly together, Jemma slipping her hand into Fitz’s. When they reached their destination, both were hesitant to let go.

Fitz turned to her, “Twelfth Doctor Marathon?”

Jemma perked up, “I’ll make tea. And popcorn?”

Fitz smiled, “Perfect. I’ll set it up in the lounge.”

They spent the first four episodes eagerly watching and critiquing their favorite show. By the middle of the fifth episode which they both found a bit dull, they got a bit distracted with other diversions. By the end of the episode, they had fallen asleep spooning. The last thing Jemma felt was safe and happy and more relaxed than she had been in years. The last thing Fitz remembered was overwhelming peace and contentment and joy that he had forgotten how to feel. She had fallen asleep first, and Fitz had watched her sleep for at least 10 minutes before nodding off himself.

The first thing they saw when they woke up was most certainly not Daisy’s eyes bugging out as she exited the room as quickly as possible, trying to conceal her delight. She tried to keep Coulson from going in there, and when she failed, his mouth hung open. He might have woken them up had she not motioned for him to leave them alone.

No when they woke up, Fitzsimmons were happy and sleepy and only slightly embarrassed. They blushed and said their good mornings, then went about their day as usual, only happier. They barely even noticed the strange looks their teammates gave them.


	3. Of Whipped Cream and Buckwheat Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pancakes are comfort food when the world is ending. They always lighten the mood. And Fitz knows what Jemma likes. Short and sweet (hahaha, I made a PUN!). Established relationship. One can dream this is what happens in season 4.

Jemma stormed into the kitchen five minutes behind Fitz, only to find Fitz was preparing to make pancakes. She knew he typically took a break around this time since he always complained of hunger until he could finally manage to leave and find sustenance; but after the discovery they had just made, she was a bit miffed he would chose to take a break just now–and a long break at that. She tried not to scold him and instead talked incessantly about risk assessment, the proper course of action they should take, and (of course) the scientific solutions available. He offered a few head nods at first and even his brief opinions on a few of her ideas, but for the last 5 minutes he had listened to her rant in complete silence, almost as if ignoring her.

She watched him flip the last of his pancakes, seemingly unperturbed by the imminent danger they faced, until she had had enough. “Fitz! Are you even listening to me?”

He snapped his head to the side to look at her, ”Wha-!? Of course I am, Jemma!” Having defended himself, he carried on preparing a short stack of buckwheat pancakes exactly the way he knew she liked them.

“Then why aren’t you taking any of this seriously?!”

“I am. I do.” Fit said nonchalantly, adding an artistic smiley face of whipped cream on the top pancake and sliding it across the counter to her.

She barely looked at the unimaginable smiling pancakes, before she began to protest. “Ugh, Fitz! I hardly think it’s the time for such th-” she was rolling her eyes when she suddenly found her words cut off by something sweet and cold in her mouth. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she swallowed a mouthful of whipped cream. For a moment she was distracted, but not for long. “Fitz-”

He plopped some pancakes on his own plate and sighed. “Aren’t you tired of the world ending every 12 minutes, Jemma?”

“Yes, of course I am, as you well know, but that doesn’t negate the fact that it will if we don’t-”

“It can wait until after lunch. Buckwheat, Jemma. I could have made fluffy golden buttermilk pancakes, but I chose buckwheat. The least you could do is eat them. It’s not like I made them because I love eating inferior breakfast foods so much.”

She looked at the plate before her with new regard and took a bite. Fitz knew she preferred buckwheat. He had known she’d need a happy food and made these specifically for her despite his own tastes. Still, he was so much calmer than she could be, and she wanted to know why. “So you aren’t the least bit worried?”

“Sure,” Fitz shrugged, “but we’ll figure it out like we always do.” He sprayed some whipped cream in his mouth and leaned on the counter, staring into Jemma’s eyes with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

Jemma met his gaze and softened her own. “Perhaps…” She leaned in and gave him a tender kiss, managing as she did so to grab the whipped cream can. As their lips parted, Jemma sprayed the can in his hair, making a small mess and laughing as Fitz jumped back. Her smile faded into a serious line with teasing eyes. She knew she was about to win this.

“Don’t worry, you have time to clean up while I eat these delicious pancakes you so thoughtfully made me. I’ll meet you back in the lab in, say, fifteen minutes? After all, we wouldn’t want to neglect our duties, given the serious nature of the threat we face.”

Jemma watched him with love as he harrumphed in defiance and grabbed his plate to take with him grumbling to her about his reward for making buckwheat.


	4. we all made choices; you are not to blame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After Fitz is burned by Nitromene, Jemma finds out. She's concerned, but she handles it rather maturely. After a little talking, they finally begin to understand each other.

“Oh, you’re back.” Jemma walked into the lab to find Daisy looking through cabinets for medical supplies.

Daisy froze at the sound of her voice, trying not to sound too suspicious. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we got back a little while ago.”

Jemma’s face scrunched as she noted how strange it was to find Daisy looking for supplies in the lab. “Can I help you find something?” She looked around instinctively, noting Fitz’s absence from the room. Though there was nothing incriminating about that fact, Jemma’s intuition felt the need to inquire, “Where’s Fitz?” 

Daisy shrugged guiltily, “He’s um… Well, he’s still… he’s in the medical bay. Actually, he’s waiting for me so…”

Jemma saw the medical kit in Daisy’s hand and started piecing it together, “Is someone…”

“Jemma-” Daisy tried to cut her off but she could find no words. Instead she simply shook her head, mouth hanging open.

Jemma took that as enough confirmation to continue her line of questioning, “Is it Fitz? Is he hurt?” As long as Daisy seemed relatively composed, Jemma wouldn’t assume the worst.

Daisy shifted around, looking for words of denial, and found the truth to be her best choice, “Look he’s okay. It’s just a little…burn.” 

Subtle as she tried to be, Jemma’s attention was very piqued. Her voice was higher than normal. “What?”

“He just didn’t want you to get upset.”

Jemma stayed silent as a stone, but her thoughts were brimming with emotions– different levels of love and anger and worry and frustration which kept stored away behind her unfocused gaze. Of course. Fitz was hurt and he still put her feelings first. Fitz would do that. Oh, she swore sometimes she hated that man, and yet she loved him more than she understood.

“Jemma, you know if he was seriously hurt… I would have told you.”

“What happened?”

I think maybe you should ask him.”

“Good idea. I’ll take that.” She grabbed the salve and bandages from Daisy and walked out of the room with determination.

\--

Jemma was determined to be angry, but when she saw Fitz sitting with his eyes closed, trying to manage the pain, she softened considerably. “Fitz?”

He jumped at the sound of her voice. His eyes flew open to find her standing at the doorway. “Simmons.” he said, resigned to being caught. “Daisy-”

“Yes, she told me." 

“Sorry.”

Jemma moved closer and began to set up the supplies. “Where?” 

He pointed at his neck briefly, despite the fact that she had already found it.

She stared at his wound and at his face, speechless. He had to be in extreme pain. She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t find any words so she moved to begin working to alleviate his pain. 

“Um, I’m going to need…” she pointed at his shirt, and he knew exactly what she meant.

“Oh, right.” he used one hand to partially unbutton his shirt and tried to remove his arm out of the sleeve. He winced.

“I think that’s enough,” Jemma said pulling the collar down his shoulder, away from his neck, to reveal his undershirt.

Before she began, she gave him something for pain control then worked as carefully and gently as she could to wash and disinfect it, removing the bits of black debris embedded in his skin. 

He had clenched his jaw, shut his eyes, made a fist but otherwise had been completely unflinching. Not even a groan. 

Once the worst of the sting was over she looked at him. “You okay?”

He nodded gingerly, “Yeah.”

“You shouldn’t be. This is a severe heat and chemical burn on your neck, and it’s deep.”

He stared at the wall blankly, “Well the liquid nitrogen help-”

“Liquid nit–Fitz, what on earth happened?”

He sighed, “Blake was experimenting… with modified nitromene.”

Jemma froze, color draining from her face, “Modified…. Fitz, you mean…”

“Yeah.”

“Fitz!” she huffed, “You could have imploded!”

“But I didn’t,” he offered sheepishly.

“And you didn’t even–”

“Yeah, I almost called for you, but then we figured out how to stop it so-”

“So you thought you could just hide your bandages from me for the next week or two.” She grabbed a bottle of salve she had made specifically for chemical burns. 

“I just didn’t want-”

“To worry me. I know.” She relaxed her tone as she started applying the soothing balm. “But maybe you should worry less about me and more about yourself. I’m not as fragile as you thin-”

“No, I know that. Trust me, Jemma. I didn’t think you couldn’t handle it. You’ve just been through enough, and I know you think that it’s your fault. I didn’t want–”

“Do… Do you remember when we were on the Bus? When I was infected with the Chitauri–”

“The Chitauri virus? Yeah,of course. How could I forget? That was…” He wanted to say that it was the first time began to realize how much her loved her, but he stopped himself. His voiced lowered, “That was awful.”

“If I hadn’t let you help, would you have felt less guilty? Doubtful since I would have died. Instead you willingly ran into the quarantine to help me. Don’t you think I would return the favor?”

He looked up at her softly, “I wasn’t just doing it as a favor or because it’s my job.”

She stopped working and looked directly at his face. “No Fitz, everything you’ve done for me was because you wanted to. You’re always there… And I… I haven’t always been…” Her eyes dropped. “Well, let’s just say circumstances haven’t been ideal for a long time. But, that doesn’t mean…” She looked in his eyes, took a deep breath and tried again, “I want to be there too. To try. For you. If I can.”

Fitz held her gaze and took her hand, “Everything bad that’s happened… none of it is really your fault. It was always a choice someone else wanted to make. And I’m sorry I didn’t give you a choice.”

Jemma was still sure she wasn’t worth all the risky choices that people made for her, but she was starting to understand. She knew that, had she been in his place, she would have made the same choices, if it meant saving him. A little guilt still gnawed away at the center of her mind, but a little piece of her heart finally knew what it meant to make a selfless choice for selfish reasons.

Clearing her head, Jemma pulled her hand away from Fitz to cut some bandages. After a few moments of silent bandaging, she was done.

Between their close physical proximity and the weight of their words, the fresh air between them had settled into a thick, heated silence neither one knew how to break. Neither one was sure it needed to break. Something between them had changed, yet again. Jemma could feel them shifting, getting ever closer to the next step. If Fitz still wanted to be more than friends…

At last Jemma spoke lightly, “There. All done.”

He smiled, “Thanks.”

“Of course,” she smiled back. It was the least she could do.


	5. when everything's wrong (you make it right)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS FOR #FALLEN AGENT
> 
> As if the finale wasn’t angsty enough, I decided to give us the expanded hurt/comfort Fitzsimmons scene(s) we all needed. Cuddling, crying, etc. Because a Meaningful Glance™ at each other was not enough for some people (*cough*me*cough*).
> 
> I sorta have a two-days-later epilogue for this but I didn't think it was ready yet. :)

Everyone knew certain things were inevitable, like death; yet somehow, no one was really ready for it, even when they knew it to be coming.  After the Quinn Jet explodes, everyone save for Daisy, needs time for the truth to truly sink in. In the moment, a certain level of shock and disbelief had masked a measure of their deeper grief. Lincoln, a kind and protective lost soul, had made the hero’s greatest sacrifice. Daisy had seen the future, and sharing this knowledge with him had caused his demise. No one could comfort her, though they tried both on the plane and on the ground.

They had all left the plane not quite sure what to do. What does one do in the moments after a loss like that? Simply carry on? Stop life to mourn? There was work to do, but none of them felt like it mattered. Unfortunately there were still urgent matters to attend to such as securing the base, and they would need a place to spend the night.

Jemma was still processing what had happened a few hours later as she took a particularly long shower in her hotel room. Her friend and co-worker was gone, shattering her friend’s already-bruised heart. He was gone and never to return. What’s worse was she knew something of what Daisy felt, something of overwhelming guilt and unwanted sacrifices. It churned her stomach to think about all the times Fitz had nearly done the same thing for her.

Of course, she also knew from her experience on Maveth what it was like to have someone actually die for her, but she had never grieved over him quite like Daisy was grieving for Lincoln. Perhaps if she had loved him more like she should have, she would have grieved for his death. Instead, she had felt guilt—guilt for whatever they had become, guilt for abandoning him, guilt for the joy that leapt in her heart when she had found Fitz. The guilt had felt worse than the final realization that he was actually dead.

She made a mental note of all the various tragedies that she felt at least partly guilty for, and added to it a new one: guilt for her relief that Fitz had survived all his heroic escapades. If she had lost Fitz— The idea alone caused an overwhelming, all-too-familiar wave of panic to spread through her system. He had come close to saying goodbye to the world enough times for Jemma to know exactly how hard she would break. She was pretty sure a loss like that would break her permanently. While considering these thoughts, she remembers that she should be mourning Lincoln. Of course she is. Lincoln was a new friend, someone she had worked with closely for months. The thought that she could be thankful for her own situation, maybe even relieved, during such times seemed wrong somehow.  

After her shower Jemma dressed in her underclothes and the hotel robe as an alternative to the pajamas she didn’t have. Looking at her empty room, she contemplated finding Fitz in his room just down the hall. She could feel the lack of Fitz’s presence and it only reminded her of all the time they’d spent apart, hurting. She needed to be near him. The next thing she knew, Jemma was reaching for the keycard he had given her earlier. They really should have just requested to share a room, Jemma thought, but it hadn’t seemed like the right time to go public with their relationship, even if she had a sneaking suspicion that at least a few people knew.

She let herself wander to Fitz’s room, barely trying to be discreet. She focused on making sure her emotions were in check. After knocking twice, she figured he was either asleep or out. She didn’t think he would have fallen asleep yet, all things considered. But where would he have gone, except, perhaps to her room?

His mind was restless, she knew, and overactive. He had always been prone to stay up late with his ideas, and now more than ever she was sure he would be up trying to keep his brain busy until it crashed. If he filled it with enough thoughts, he wouldn’t have to think about the pain or helplessness he was feeling.

She paused and considered her options: she could return to her room and deal with life like an adult, or she could wait for him and cling to him like a needy child. After a minute of hesitation she slid the card and entered the room. She realized then that he was in the shower, so she sat and waited.

Five minutes passed before she began to feel impatient. After 10, she fell backwards onto the bed, exhausted by her emotions. About 15 minutes later, Fitz came out in a similar robe and balked at the sight of his girlfriend resting across the foot of his bed.

“Jemma?” His voice was raw and heavy and laced with concern. “How long have you--”

She sat up at the sound of his voice and shrugged wordlessly. The tears she had been saving for him sprang into her eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered, emotion rising and cracking in his voice. Immediately he took strides to where she was and pulled her into a big hug.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him desperately as her floodgates opened, releasing a rush of endless tears. She stood up so she could bury her face in his neck.

Fitz pressed kisses in her hair, trying to comfort her, trying to be her rock. The only problem was that he felt her pain in his own chest, and it felt like poisoned daggers. Even when work was over and things were allowed to be processed on a personal level, Fitz tried hard to lock certain things inside. He usually broke down trying, but throughout the last two years, he had gotten a little too much practice at feeling numb. It was only recently that he had even begun to feel hope because of Jemma, and once again tragedy had struck.

The lump in Fitz’s throat grew until finally he broke down and let himself cry, albeit silently. He couldn’t have stopped himself, really. His whole body quivered from the nerves of the day, vibrated under Jemma’s grasp.

 “I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry,” he muttered in her damp hair with no real explanation as to why he was sorry.   

He hadn’t been close to Lincoln, even less so than Jemma who had worked with him on Inhuman DNA for months; but regardless, he had liked Lincoln. What hurt more, was the aftermath: seeing the people left behind to mourn him. Fitz would have put himself in Lincoln’s place to save Jemma, and he knows this is part of why she’s crying. Fitz had gotten a firsthand glimpse of what sacrifice did to those left behind.  He still knew his first instinct was to throw himself in front of a train for Jemma Simmons. Of all his regrets, saving her could never be one.

Jemma mumbled quietly into Fitz’s chest, just loudly enough for him to catch her attempts, “If you ever… I— I couldn’t… I don’t know…”

Even had she been able to finish whispering the words between her soft, violent sobs, she didn’t need to finish the sentence for Fitz to understand.

“I know.”

“I never want to lose you like that.”

Fitz was shaking his head slowly, “I never realized before. I never thought—really thought—about… about…”His shoulders heaved with his lungs.

Jemma sniffled and pulled away from Fitz, taking his hands and looking in his eyes. She’d seen him upset, before, but never quite like this. His eyes were tired and red. She softened her gaze and focused on his sadness instead of her own.

“Oh, _Fitz_.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, “It’s been a long day,” he offered, shakily. It was the understatement of the year.

She sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, sighing wearily. “Yeah.”

Then, as if psychically linked, they both started talking, somehow managing to listen at the same time.

“I was actually going to go over to your room too.”

“I just wanted to be near you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Me too.”

They both lay down together, and Jemma nestled herself in Fitz’s arms. Naturally her hands entwined in his. As their tears subsided, a silence passed between them, filled only with shallow breaths which slowly deepened and became steady. Endless minutes passed this way until they were both on the edge of sleep.

“Fitz?”

“Mmm?”

“I was just thinking about…” Jemma took a breath and turned in his arms. Initially she had looked in his eyes which had opened just to look at her, but as she tried to speak now, she stared at the collar of his robe, fiddling with the cloth. “Well, about Lincoln’s last words to Daisy and how he never— They didn’t— And poor Daisy never got to tell him… And, and… I was just thinking that… I might not have told you properly, even though I hope you know.” She glanced up at his face, to see him on the edge of suffocation, waiting with baited breath and wide eyes. It was too much. She looked down again. “And well, I want to make sure I tell you how I feel.” She took a breath for courage and locked eyes with him, “I love you, Fitz.” She had known the truth for so long, and she had known how he felt about her even longer. Still, her heart skipped a beat at the sound of the words.

Without so much as a blink he was confessing with conviction the words he had held in his soul for so long, “I love you too, Jemma.”

Jemma rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was the sound of safety. Before she fell asleep, he heard her mumble, “I really do love you, Leopold Fitz.” A surge of peace washed over his tired mind and a few minutes later he was joining her in sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

When they awoke the next morning, tangled in arms and legs and loosened robes, it was impossible for one to stir without waking the other. Fitz had slid down in the bed and turned over in his sleep to rest his head in the crook of Jemma’s neck, one arm wrapped around her waist. Jemma was on her side facing Fitz, one arm pinned under his neck, the other draped across his back, and a knee bent around his legs.

A particularly vivid dream startled Jemma awake—the first dream she had woken up remembering in a long time. Though she had wakened with tears in her eyes, the first thing she felt was Fitz’s warm heavy, steady constant breath against her skin which instantly began to calm some of the fear she had felt. Before her dream could begin to fade; however, Fitz felt her body jerk, stiffen, and inhale. His response was to cling to her tighter and moan softly in his sleep. Fitz’s breathing began to change, indicating he was on the edge of waking up. A few seconds later Jemma felt his lips pressed absent-mindedly against her collarbone.

As Fitz woke the first thing he felt was Jemma’s presence pulling him from a dreamless sleep. As his head lolled back and forth, he rubbed his nose lazily against Jemma’s neck, instinctively inhaling a deep breath as he became barely conscious.

They both felt an emotional hangover from the day before. Exhaustion had set into their bones through the night. Their presence had grounded them, kept them from tossing and turning, and granted them a few moments of peace; but the pain was still present and would be for a while. At the moment, the pair felt a bit like two bricks glued to one another.

“Hi.”

“Good morning, Fitz.” Jemma answered with more early morning presence of mind.

As the sound of her voice roused him further, a sense of concern for Jemma entered his mind. “Jemma?” he mumbled groggily, “You okay?”

She didn’t answer right away. Part of her wanted to forget her dream. There was no need to talk about it, right? They were happy enough for now--all things considered. But part of her was still shaken by the dream, so in order to be honest with him, she should tell him that truth. On top of giving him an honest answer, she found that, as hard as it might be, she might actually want to tell him, to share her deepest fears with him.

Fitz lifted his head and watched her, to see why she wasn’t responding. He waited for her.

She untangled herself from Fitz and sat against the headboard; he moved accordingly, shifting to lie on his side with his elbow propped under his head.

“It was just… I had a dream last night. That’s all.”

She expected him to try to comfort her, to ask her what had dreamt about, or to ask her if she wanted to talk about it. And if he did, she knew she would shrug it off. She’d never been very brave when it came to admitting her feelings, especially her weaknesses. Instead he surprised her.

“I have them too sometimes,” he confessed. “Hydra, drowning, the monolith when you were gone, setting Hive on fire. All sorts of terrible stuff we’ve been through. It’s gotten better though… in the last few months—since we started over—but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still have them.”

Just like turning a key in a lock, she was ready to open up for him. How had he done that? “We were on vacation in the Seychelles, happy, ready to go snorkeling, and then…” She took a breath. It was illogical to be scared of a dream when it made so little logical sense, and it seemed silly to even explain it.

Fitz sat up next to her properly, showing her support in his eyes, so she continued, “Then Ward came out of nowhere and threw us into the water. He was… holding you under and saying something about how it was for my—our—own good. Then the water was suddenly a portal to Maveth, and it took you away. And then Lincoln crashed into the water, all… lit on fire and saying he was okay… just cursed. And he said that you were okay too, because you, like him, were willing— _happy_ even—to die for someone you loved. Then the water sucked him under, and everything started shaking… Suddenly Daisy was there blaming me for letting Hive come to earth, saying I should have died over there.”

Fitz grabbed her hand and stroked it with his thumb, staring at it intently, stroking her hand. At last, he exhaled the breath he had been holding as he listened.  When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, “You think you should have died over there?”

“No, of _course_ not. But, I mean, I suppose… If I hadn’t been so eager to get home—to get back to you… Well, it would have been better for everyone else. Hive would still be trapped everyone would have been kept safe and alive right now, including the Inhumans, and the agents who were affected by Hive’s coercion of Radcliffe into creating--”

“Jemma, _stop_. You can’t blame every bad thing that happens on yourself.”

“I just feel responsible.”

“When bad people do bad things that’s on them. Plus, I mean, I’m the one who opened the portal in the first place… so if you want to be technical, I was a big part of the reason--”

“Yeah, but you did that for me.”

“Because I was being a lovesick fool.”

“Yeah. You were,” she chimes in, arching her eyebrows and looking at him pointedly.

He let a brief silence clear the air. “Well, then that’s on _me_. But Jemma, getting stuck on Maveth was nobody’s fault. You don’t deserve to die for that.  Your death wouldn’t have been any nobler than Lincoln’s. And Lincoln… Well, he made his choice for Daisy. Just like I made that choice for you.

“At least three times.”

“And I can’t r _eally_ regret any of it because right now we’re together, instead of dead at the bottom of the ocean or trapped on another planet.”

“Because we’re _cursed_.”   
  
“Maybe we are, with everything we’ve been through, but I don’t know. Maybe… maybe sometimes curses can be broken.”

“Like true love’s kiss? Like in a _fairytale_?” she teased.

He sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He would never live that down. “Or _maybe_ ,” he said deciding to use Jemma’s own words, “Maybe some things are just inevitable if you fight for it.”

Jemma leaned over and kissed Fitz, pouring her heart into it. The kiss served to tell him she was hearing and accepting what he said with a heart full of love and gratitude for him. Maybe he was better than she deserved, but she was never letting go of him.

Fitz broke the kiss with a “Do you still want to go—”

“To go to The Seychelles? After my dream?”

Fitz nodded, “Do you?”

She exhaled, “I just don’t know if it’s the right time. With Daisy—”

“I don’t think there ever will be a perfect time. I’m not saying we have to go tomorrow, but I still think we should—and sooner than later. You were right about us deserving a break from tragedy. Although, got to say, I’m not big on the snorkeling idea.”

“Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Fitz shrugged, not too concerned. “Well, you were just thinking about the fish.”

“So… We’ll stay around for a week or two? Get the base back up and running. And of course we’ll try to be there for Daisy. And then we’ll ask Coulson for time off.”

The color drained from Fitz’s face, “We’ll have to tell him.”

“Fitz, I think he knows.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Well, Mack’s known for a while, apparently. Until we pulled the broken coms trick in Bucharest, confirming his suspicions.”

“Yeah, but—“

“And Coulson _is_ the head of a spy organization.”

“That doesn’t mean he—“

“And it’s not like we’ve been exactly great at hiding our emotions with everything that’s happened. Except maybe from each other.”

Fitz thought about it and closed his mouth without protestation. “Fair enough.” After a moment Fitz’s stomach rumbled, prompting Jemma to look at the clock.

“I suppose I ought to go back to my room to get dressed.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed fixing her robe, “I’ll see you at breakfast? Then we can meet up with the team.”

Fitz stretched across the bed and grabbed her hand so he could whisper in her ear, “Stay. We can sleep in a little longer. It’s early.”

“Exactly. _It’s early_.” A smile tugged at the edge of Jemma’s lips as she felt Fitz’s hands running up and down her arms. She nuzzled his face, “Which means no one will see me going back to my room in a robe… As much as I’d love to stay, believe me. If we stay we’ll miss breakfast and the team will wonder where we were.”

“Yeah, you’re usually right.” He kissed her neck. “But didn’t you also say they already knew about us?” He slipped his fingertips underneath the edge of the terrycloth robe. “Just stay with me for a little while.”

Jemma felt herself caving. She craned her neck to give him a short, warm kiss. “Alright.” Another kiss. “Five minutes—ten, _tops_ —and no funny business.” She grabbed Fitz’s phone on the nightstand. “I’m setting an alarm.”

They both fell back on the mattress, cradling one another. Within minutes heavy eyelids fell to a deep sleep, alarms went unheeded, and breakfast was missed entirely.


	6. if i ever get the nerve to ask (say you will)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hypothetical situation where Fitz has been thinking about proposing, and Jemma can't figure out why he's acting weird. (Sliiiightly edited since I posted it on tumblr back around the season 3 finale).

She’s noticed something about Fitz for the past week or so. Nothing too concerning, she hopes, but he seems a bit flustered, preoccupied, maybe even secretive. Of course, she can’t imagine what it could be the problem; as far as she knows they’ve never been happier together.

He’s standing across the lab pretending not to be staring at her when finally, she’s had enough. She strides the room to confront him. “Alright, Fitz, what’s the matter with you?”

He looks up, as though unaware she was talking to him, “What? Nothing’s the matter with me!”

She crosses her arms and arches a singular eyebrow in disbelief. “I can tell when something’s bothering you. The least you can do is be honest. If something’s bothering–”

“Can we– Can we talk about this later, Jemma?”

“So something is bothering–”

“No! Well, not really. Well, maybe. It’s just– Can we–?” he grabs her hand and leads her to a more private place in the lab. “Look, I didn’t want to say anything because now’s not the best time. Can’t you just trust that everything is fine?” 

“Of course, I trust you Fitz. I just don’t understand. You’ve been acting odd these last few days, and I just worry–”

So he stuffs his hands into his pockets and shrugs, “Well you don’t have to. “ His defensive tone does nothing but alarm Jemma, and Fitz notices her unease immediately. “Hey, I’m sorry, Jemma. I sound like a total–” he can’t quite find the word but Jemma agrees with the sentiment by giving a strong nod and a pointed look.

“It’s just ‘cause… 'cause there’s something I wanna ask you, but I’m not quite sure how to do it. And I wanted to…” he takes a deep breath and pulls out a small box from one of his pockets and thrusts it toward her awkwardly, “Here. I wanted to give you this.” His lips quirk to the side nervously.

Her eyes blink as they fall on a ring box; her mouth falls open. “Is that--?” She points at the box and looks up at Fitz, joy bubbling underneath her wide a wide-eyed expression as he nods. "Are-- Are you asking--?"

"Yeah. Well that was the plan, or almost the plan, anyway. That's kinda why I've been carrying it around in my pocket for the past week."

“Can I–?” she realizes, however, that she doesn’t need permission. It's meant to be hers. She takes it and looks inside at the simple, elegant solitary diamond and inhales sharply. “Oh, Fitz! It’s lovely!”

“I wanted to wait for the perfect moment. Or maybe surprise you and set up a romantic… thing... I don’t know. I tried to ask Daisy for ideas, but she was asking too many questions, and I didn’t want her to know too much until after I asked--you know, since I figured you should say yes first-"

"I can't believe I almost forgot!"

"I didn’t know if maybe it–”

“Yes!” she interjects with the widest smile her face has ever made.

“If maybe it was too soon. Not that I think it is, but–” The realization of Jemma’s words hits him the same time her lips do. The kiss is quick and full of smiles. “Yes? We’re --"

"Engaged? Yeah.” She nods in confirmation that he heard her correctly before letting him put the ring on her finger.

“I guess we should tell everyone we’re a couple then.”

“Fitz,” she laughs, “I’m pretty sure they knew about us a few years before we even did. At the very least, they’ve had 3 months to figure it out after we finally did.”

“Really?” He’s genuinely taken aback, but he’s too happy to really care. “Well then let’s go tell them the rest of it before they see the ring for themselves.”

She reaches up to give him another kiss which was just a bit more heated then either one had expected. "We should probably celebrate later... Alone." she suggests. Fitz seems to agree as they link hands and walk off to find someone--really anyone--they can tell.


End file.
